drawn against a wall in blood
by no white horse for me
Summary: "The girl glances down at her hands and sees they are coated in blood. She wonders idly if they will ever be clean" angsty seddie one shot. heavily implied Creddie
1. Chapter 1

**Heya, everyone! so this was literally written in 10 minutes at 11:00 at night, and I have no idea where this is from! It's kinda angsty and there's a surprise at the end, so enjoy!  
>HPloveofmylife<strong>

There is no light in the room.

Dark clouds cover the sky, hiding the moon.

There is a silhouette against a far wall.

You can hardly discern the person from the wall.

And there are two crumpled figures on the floor, lying eagle-winged.

One is a girl.

One is a boy.

The person against the wall surveys the handiwork and twirls the butcher's knife in their fingers.

The boy on the floor has his throat slit, nice and clean – the person against the wall is proud.

The girl is worst – there is a cut straight down her stomach, leaving the two pieces of skin on either side hanging open. Her hair is clotted with blood, unlike its usual glossiness. And her throat is slit too.

The girl against the wall is smirking, dangling the knife precariously between bare hands. She does not plan to escape if the police come, which they will.

A few clouds part outside the window, sending a sliver of light dancing across the floor of the blood-stained room, lighting up the figure in the room. She is still hazy, and not clear against the dark wall behind her. Her eyes hold a look of pure insanity, her lip curled back in a happy smile at her own creation.

She looks down with proud at the two dead people before her, and, if possible, her grin widens. This is the way it should be, she thinks happily, they deserve this way.

But they do not.

They were good people. They lived the perfect life.

They were in love, heavily in love. They had just bought their first house together and were planning on getting married as soon as the girl could get rid of her ex-husband. They paid their bills, they never shoplifted. They did not deserve to die at the hands of someone they had trusted with their lives.

The girl steps around the moonlight, the maniac look in her eyes intensifies. And as she looks down at the forms of her best friends – they could be sleeping – she feels a maniacal grin slide over her face.

And then, she begins to laugh.

She drops the knife and doubles over, clutching her stomach as her laughter rings through the forever silent house, bouncing off the walls and coming back to her own ears. She collapses to her knees right between the two figures on the ground.

She reaches out a hand to touch the boy's cheek – his skin is pale and clammy, and she grins wider. And then her hand brushes the girl's curls away from her eyes, and the girl's eyelids flutter close as she feels the heat drain from her best friend's cheek. She stays there for a while, just sitting there, her knees soaking in their blood.

The clouds part fully, bathing the room in light, and the girl in the middle looks up, staring at the window almost as though she can sense someone standing there. The light throws her into sharp relief, and she smiles knowingly, her dark eyes looking more insane than ever. Her dark brown hair covers one side of her face, and she continues to smile.

They are dead. Her best friends are dead.

But it is not her fault.

If only _he _had fallen in love with the right girl – _her _– then they wouldn't be in this mess.

But he didn't, and they are.

The girl glances down at her hands and sees they are coated in blood. She wonders idly if they will ever be clean but then she realizes:

She does not want them to be clean, for they are a reminder of what she has done.

They are dead and gone forever, at her hands, at the hands of a girl they loved and trusted.

And she failed them.

Her name is Carly Shay.

She is crazy.

She is sick.

She has no sanity left.

She has killed Samantha and Fredward Benson.

Her name is Carly Shay.

She is a murderer.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Spencer Shay of the Seattle Art Community sat on the couch of his home, a cup of coffee clutched in his hand. The TV was blaring in front of him, sending colors dancing aross the room.

The news came on, and as Spencer made to get up, the news anchor's voice stopped him.

"_Late last night, the authorities were alerted to a disturbance at 682 Wentworth Avenue in Seattle." _Spencer stopped. He knew that address, but he couldn't remember where it was from._ "It was 2'o'clock in the morning when the police recieved a call from a mobile numnber. A young girl was on the other end of the line, and she said 'Come to 682 Wentworth Avenue. Bring handcuffs.' and disconnected."_

On the screen, a picture flickered across, and Spencer's jaw dropped. It was a beautiful, painted white house with a perfectly manicured lawn and a yellow and black Camero out the front. The door was on its hinges, and one of the windows were smashed. Spencer gripped the mug tighter, and his breath quickened. It was a familiar house, a house he had been to many times.

And then, the news anchor (a girl Spencer had dated, coincidentally) continued talking. "_There were three people lying in the house. All three of them were renowed webhosts almost 10 years ago. But now, Fredward Benson is better known for his PearPad application, MoodFace. Samantha Benson, also known as Samantha Puckett, is widely known for her singing and acting. However, the third, Carly Shay, has not been heard from for almost 10 years, ever since the end of their very popular webshow, iCarly."_

A picture of the living room that Spencer had been in so many times showed up on the screen, and the mug in Spencer's hand slipped and crashed to the ground. His hand flew to his mouth as the tears built up in his throat.

"_The police are denying any comment or releasing anything other than what has been shown, but they have said that there was a message on the wall, written in what looked like blood. It said..." _Here she paused as she consulted her notes. "_'_I win."

**a/n: alright, so this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I couldn't resist writing this. I hope you enjoy!  
>HPloveofmylife<strong>


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